"clean gentleman / closing-in on the final stanza / used to be good-looking /

used to play ball / fine slow-dancer in his day / used to be good-looking;

good enough to say it twice.."

it’s being prepared by thinking ahead

like a post-it note reminding us to pickup bread, or the kids, or eggs.

there’s comfort there; almost as if the sticky little notes

have taken us half-way to the tasks we're reminded to accomplish

before we even leave the house.

it wasn’t that way at the dawn of man.

that’s a constant itch, right there.

preening was an invention by a forward-thinking

Homo Habilis whose christian name escapes me at the moment.

but the automobile was invented by the properly named

Nicolas-Joseph Cugnot of France, although

many might say it was Leonardo, or in the case of

orange-crate designs of the 1950s, some would proffer

the name of Ray Bazinette,

who lived on Healy Street where he built

some serious orange-crate beauties in our time, but––

God broke Adam’s rib for kicks

which led It to other sexually deviant activities––

like the invention of Eve.

God had a boner for Eve.

that's clear, but who can blame him? certainly not me.

also, this poem is admittedly disjointed, but it's designed to be that way.

regardless, who has time to spend cobbling anything to some sort of coherence?

not me, that's for sure.

besides, the paperboy's delivery is on schedule for once,

and it's time to check the "personals" in the "classifieds" where

true love waits.